


The "A" Word

by penguinpatrolerarmy



Series: The Mark and Mazz AU [5]
Category: Pump Up the Volume (1990)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Autism, Autism Acceptance Month 2019, Autism Spectrum, Gen, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:08:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinpatrolerarmy/pseuds/penguinpatrolerarmy
Summary: OR Mark Hunter vs The Nerotypical Majority





	1. Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> I was debating on actually uploading this story for a bit because It was kind of a mess for a while. I finally had the time and energy to make it into what it deserved to be though so now I give you part one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW - Autism used briefly as a derogatory term, eye contact.

Mark sat quietly in the shade of the stairs, taking a few bites of his sandwich and leisurely reading through the first segment in his copy of _I Sing The Body Electric_. Even at his old school, he enjoyed reading away his lunch period. It was one of the few things he kept in his routine... Just him, his lunch, and some Bradbury. He definitely preferred it to the alcove. The stairs were simple, shaded, and generally absent of any noise.

He adjusted his back slightly, letting his spine pop out. It probably wasn’t good to be hunched over, he already did it enough in class as it was. He couldn’t help it, his muscle memory made any hopes of attaining a proper posture nearly pointless. Mark already had accepted this long ago, though. He didn’t care too much, he just turned back to his book.

_I could have said: reading late at night, reading many nights over years until almost morning…_

Mark heard footsteps and voices in the distance. He tried not to pay much mind to them… It was just a passing group of students, it wasn’t important.

_…Or I could have said: All of us put our hands on this Machine, all of us thought about it and bought it and touched it and put our love in it…_

The voices grew louder as they passed along the top of the staircase.

“You guys even get what all this Hard Harry hype is about?”

Mark curiously listened in.

“Not really, he’s just some loser in his basement… I guess he says neat things sometimes but the dude is just sitting in his room waiting to jack himself every minute.”

“Yeah, the whole show is fucking autistic if you ask me.”

“Oh, totally. Its an autistic show with autistic fans.”

“All hype and no pay off-”

...Yeah, That ruined his whole morning...

Mark tried to turn back to his book, staring at the words a moment… He’d lost his place just to hear a couple of kids spew horseshit. He sighed, folding the corner of the page and slipping the book back into his bag. He didn’t feel much like reading anymore. He eyed his neglected sandwich, somewhat disgusted to find a bunch of ants crawling over it… Oh well, he’d already lost his appetite anyways.

He looked up, eyeing where the group had just been… Maybe he should have said something to them… But, the lump in his throat told him that even if he tried nothing would have come out. He just picked up his bag, and tried to find some other place to clear his mind. It became apparent that this wasn’t a good spot anymore… He just hoped that by tomorrow it wouldn’t be ruined for him.

The ear-shattering bell signifying the end of lunch pulled him from his current state of mind. Mark started walking, deciding to not rush himself. The last thing he wanted was to get to caught up in the wave of students going to class... Though, on the bright side, he had Creative Writing next. AKA the only class he actually found genuine enjoyment in attending.

He'd managed to get there without much trouble, save for the constant sounds of other students chattering around him and a few instances where someone nearly bumped into him. Then, of course, there was the second bell; just as loud and uncomfortable as the first... But, at least he could take a few breaths.

"Okay, today I'm giving you time in class to work on your poems." Ms. Emerson announced after the second bell had come and gone. Mark felt a bit of relief hearing this... Truthfully? He hadn't started it yet. It was only Wednesday, and the poem itself wasn't due till Friday; but he'd rather try his best to get it out of the way before his other teachers loaded more work on him. Though, poetry was somewhat hard for him simply because it wasn't something he found very interesting. Reading poetry he could get behind, writing it was too much strain. Occasionally, he could manage one or two verses, but it wasn't his strong suit when it came to creation... He much preferred surrealist fantasies.

“As I've said before, don’t be afraid to make your pieces as personal or as outlandish as you want them to be.” Emerson reminded before going to sit at her desk. Mark was going to use this time to think, but before he could start someone had slipped into the empty desk next to him.

“Hey.” Nora greeted.

“Hi.” He replied, not looking up.

“You okay?”

“What makes you ask?”

“I went to stairs earlier and you weren’t there… And you’re very protective of your stair-time so I thought it was odd.”

…Right, the stairs… He’d been keeping them in the back of his mind. He preferred not to remember when these sort of things happened, mostly cause they all blended together after a while. It was hard feeling upset about it when it happened so often, directly and indirectly. He glanced at his watch, knowing that there was still a long time left in class but looking for a reason to not make eye contact with another person.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He muttered. He wished he'd snuck in something to stim with... But, over the years Mark had learned that most people don't like the looks of someone just moving their hand around in their pockets. Though, he wouldn't have to keep things in his pockets if people didn't stare at him when he had things out and in plain view...

“Why not?” Nora asked. It was innocent, but Mark didn't realize this soon enough

“ **I just don’t, okay?** ” He snapped, almost immediately regretting it. He hadn’t meant for it to sound as mean as it did... But, that didn't really help too much. He took a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t… sorry.” He thought for a moment his voice was going to leave him (though it thankfully didn't). 

“It’s okay,” She assured, “I’m sorry for trying to force it out of you.”

Mark just gave her a nod, hunching over a blank paper he'd set out.

"You haven't started yet, either?" She mumbled with amusement.

"No, But I would like too." He replied; tapping his pencil against the warn, wooden surface of his desk. This was the one stim no one seemed to bat an eye at. Nora looked as though she was going to continue bugging him, but she didn't and instead turned towards her own paper. Mark was happy about that. He liked Nora, she wasn't always the easiest person to talk to but she was a decent person. Though, they had a tendency to distract each other when they did talk, and Mark wanted to actually use the time he had in class.

He worked until there was only about 3 minutes left of class. He kept it hidden from Nora's occasional glances, insisting that he wanted it to be "a surprise", when the reality of it was that it was actually turning into something somewhat personal. He felt like this action was going to bite him in the ass later, but then again maybe he'd just been watching too many sitcoms. Eventually, the bell rang and the two of them left the room together.

“You going on tonight?” Nora asked.

“Of course.” Mark replied, “I have a bit of an idea of what the subject is going to be, too...”

“Any hints?”

“‘Fraid not.” He could tell her, He really could. There wasn't really much stopping him from saying "Yeah I'm considering calling out ableist language on air because too many people use autism as an insult." But he wasn't sure if he was quite comfortable with Nora knowing he was Autistic yet. He trusted her, sure, but he wasn't ready to tell her specifically. He just wanted to get a few other things out on the air first before he had this conversation... Maybe she'd miraculously figure it out on her own and he wouldn't have to tell her... Was that better? Or worse? At least if he told her upfront he'd see how she'd react... Did he want to see that? He supposed if it wasn't a bad one...

Nora pouted. “Dang… Well I’ll see you later then.”

He snapped away from his thoughts. “Yeah, right... Later.”

And with that they went their separate ways for the afternoon. Mark to some math class he didn’t care much for and Nora… somewhere… He forgot what class she had this period actually… But whatever it was he assumed she’d be discontent with it somehow. Most of the school was at this hour of day, he'd noticed.

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing Mark dreaded more than School, it was dinner. Yet, at the same time, having dinner with his parents had become so important to his routine it would probably be his breaking point if it failed to happen on a bad day. And sometimes dinner wasn't too bad, sometimes Mazz would be there to talk to his parents for him...

But, unfortunately, tonight was a Mazz-less night. Mark wasn't sure exactly where his friend was, actually... He wasn't even at school (he was expelled, yet probably had the most perfect attendance in terms of being on campus). But, he didn't think anything was wrong. Mazz was a free spirit, and probably somewhere he was needed more urgently. That or he was asleep... Again, he was a free spirit. Nothing holding him down.

"Mark." His father said. The tone indicated that he'd been repeating himself a few times. Mark gave his parents a quick glance and a hum.

"Your mother asked you how school was, son."

"Oh... It was fine." Mark mumbled, looking back at his potatoes.

"I'm not convinced." His mom said, looking at him. He took a drink of his water, trying to not think about the fact that they were staring... They knew he hated eye-contact, but it was always the thing they managed to forget about. Sometimes it wasn't too bad but, tonight just was a night that it was more bothersome.

"...Mazz was gone today..." He admitted. He could have said more, could have told them about the stairs or the fact that he was just generally overstimulated for most of the day or even that he didn't want them to stare, but something stopped him... Pride, stupidity, years and years of bad teachers and a particularly shitty psychologist telling him to "suck it up and act normal"; He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

His mom's expression softened. "Oh... Do you know where he went? I thought he'd be over for dinner." She gestured to an extra plate that had been set aside on the counter.

"Not really... Mr. Murdock was extra pissy about him yesterday, he probably just decided to lay off for the day."

"Language, Mark." His father warned, giving him a stern glare."...You sure Mazz actually would back off like that?"

Mark thought over it... It was very out of character for Mazz. He took his protesting pretty seriously "No... He might actually be sick or something, now that I think about it."

"Ah, yeah... That would stop him." His Father said after thinking it over a moment.

"If he is sick, I hope he's at least not miserable about it." His mother added.

Mark thought he heard them ask him more questions, but they stopped after a while... Giving up on a conversation. They were always like this... They could make small talk to each other, but communication wasn't always their strong point... not when they were all together like this, anyways. They just quietly ate their dinners and went their separate ways, his parents to watch the news and Mark to work on his homework for the next few hours.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, and it was finally time for his favorite part of the day: His nightly broadcast. He took a few breaths, letting Everybody Knows play out as he collected his thoughts and tried to get exactly what he wanted to say in the right order. He probably could write it down, it would make his own job easier... But at the same time, that took some of the fun away from spit-balling on air. 

Reggie rubbed his noes against Mark's hand.

"Yeah, I'm nervous too buddy." He mumbled. Reggie continued to move past his hand, staring down at a container of live crickets.

"Oh, you're just hungry." Mark chuckled. He took the container and dumped a few of the crickets into Reggie's terrarium... It would be pretty enriching to let him roam around and go after live bugs, plus Reggie would get to eat at his own rate. Mark lifted his pet up slightly.

"You ready to go hunting?" He asked him. Reggie answered as most lizards would, with a tilt of his head and a lick of his lips (something that Mazz noted at one point both of them do). Mark placed his Lizard back into his tank, watching him take prowl of his territory for a moment. Then, he turned back to his microphone...

It was time, no more waiting. He faded out his song, taking the microphone in his hands.

"Have I ever mentioned how exhausting ignorance can be?" He began, easing his way into what was sure to be a long conversation with no one and everyone. "Sometimes it's small things, like a friend making an indirect comment about you; Sometimes it's bigger things, like your parent's wondering how you can be unhappy when they think you have it easier. And sometimes... Sometimes the ignorance isn't even obvious. It's just a matter of people being uneducated about something because no one bothered to tell them about it and, in turn, they never felt a reason to learn about it.

'That last one has been going through my head recently... And something happened today that made me finally decide to be open about it. I was sitting around campus, eating my lunch, reading away in a desperate attempt to forget that I was at school for even a few minutes... When I overhear a conversation concerning your's truly. And, during this conversation, these guys made a point to remark how they thought that my show and anyone who listened to it was "Autistic" because he didn't see why anyone would listen to me."

He took a breath, letting his mind settle for another moment, then continued:

"Now, I don't know about you guys... But if I were to insult someone, I wouldn't go out of my way to make an entire group of people _into_ an insult. Especially when said group of people happen to face gross mischaracterizations of themselves every day of their lives. I don't give a fuck if you hate my show, just say "I hate Hard Harry and he doesn't appeal to me!" You don't have to go out of your way and make ableist remarks to make your point. You don't have to call it 'Autistic' or the 'r' word Or some other third shitty thing... Just say it, and say it bluntly: "I hate Hard Harry and I hate his show." Say it, and move on.

'... You know, the worst part of this is I know those kids aren't even listening... So, I ask that those of you who are... Just make sure they hear it clearly tomorrow. Especially those of you at school who are Autistic. In fact, free to send me a letter talking about similar experiences... Or even just other things entirely. I mean, one person isn't a fountain of knowledge. We should band together and help educate the masses, let them know that despite everything the nerotypicals tell us... We aren't something to be pitied or ashamed of or downright hated!"

Mark took a moment to breathe... _We_ , he said. _Us_ , he said. At first, he was trying to not be obvious about it... yet at the same time he couldn't stop himself from letting it slip by... Tomorrow was likely to be filled with students talking about how Hard Harry was Autistic in a different way. Or, hell, maybe this would backfire and they'd talk about it in the same way... 

So Be It. 

"Well, that's about all I had to say tonight, so How about we read some letters and call it good?" He announced. He had three left over that he'd never gotten to the night before, so he might as well get through them.

One of them had been a rather grossly detailed excerpt from some poor guy who got a rash after sex, to which Harry replied that he should "Try to see a doctor and use a condom next time... If you aren't a practitioner of Abstinence then you should at least be safe. STDs aren't a joke, friend."

Another had actually been an artist's interpretation of how he looked based on his broadcasts. It was pretty far from Mark's actual appearance in terms of physique, but the patterned short sleeve and sweatpants were admittedly pretty close to his outfit at the moment. He loved it either way though, it was a very well composed piece. "I would like to thank you for not trying to draw my cock, by the way... No offense but I'd rather not look at how someone else envisions it. Just a personal tick of mine."

The final letter he read that night had been an interesting one.

"Well, this is an interesting one...

_'Dear Hard Harry. I had a friend that moved away recently. He's been gone for a few months now, but he hasn't really tried to contact me or anyone else from our friend group. He was kind of a quiet kid and got stressed easily so I just assumed he was having a hard time adjusting... But I wrote him a letter recently and haven't gotten any word back. We want to give him the benefit of the doubt and just say the letter got lost en route. He lives in your town and given how popular your show is we thought he might be listening. So, do you think you could do us a favor and play the tape we've sent in with this note?_

_'Signed, Concerned._

'Well Concerned... I'm sure he's just been busy wherever he is. I mean, I can't speak for him... But having moved across the entire country myself I'd say I have a slight idea what he might be feeling...So I'll gladly play this song for you... My last act of the night."

He pulled the cassette out of the envelope. It was a bit tattered, but not broken. It also wasn't labeled, which he found fairly peculiar. But, regardless, he set it into his player.

He almost immediately recognized the guitar riff and subsequent lyrics:

 _Now I greet you from the other side of sorrow and despair, with a love so vast_  
_And so shattered, it will reach you everywhere._

Heart With No Companion, Written by Leonard Cohen and released in 1984 as part of his 7th studio album: Various Positions. He had a copy of that album on record (Correction: He had a copy of every Leonard Cohen album on record)... Hell he'd actually transferred a few songs from it onto cassettes for...

...His friends back east.

He looked over the handwritten note again, this time paying more attention to it... They tried writing before? They cared about him?? Well, at least Clyde did (it's his handwriting).

Mark slouched back in his chair, letting the song play out.

...This was going to keep him up well into the morning.


	2. Thursday Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark deals with some of the aftermath of his broadcast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Meltdown, Selective Muteness

Mark found himself staring at the stairs... The very spot where usually he could forget about the rest of the world. But, today it wasn't that. Today, It and his Book were just reminders of the shit he'd heard the day before... It didn't help that he hadn't seen too much reaction around the school about last night, which by this point was starting to worry him.

...Maybe he should have sucked it up and kept acting normal...

Well, it was too late for that now. He turned away, opting to find another spot to enjoy his lunch. There were a few quiet spots around the school, he could stay in one of them for until he felt comfortable going back. That said, the hard part was just getting around to one. He braved his way through the school, passing by the alcove... God he could hear how loud it was even at this distance. It was just another annoyance he had to deal with in his life.

Though, one thing brought him some slight comfort as he walked... And it was a familiar figure in the distance with a leather vest and unmistakably unnatural shade of blond. Mark picked his pace up a little... He could brave through some noise if it meant saying "Hello" to Mazz. Afterall, he was curious about what he'd done yesterday.

He got so excited about greeting his friend, that he wasn't exactly sure how to when he walked up... He thought over it for a moment.

"Hey!" Mazz turned around, instantly smiling wide.

"Hey Mark, S'up?" He asked, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"You were gone yesterday." Mark said matter-of-factually.

His friend sighed. "Yeah. My parents said that if I'm not learning then I need to get a job so... I went Job Hunting to get them off my case."

Mark wasn't too surprised to hear this. He'd never met Mazz's parents but this sounded like something they'd make him do. "Find anyone who was hiring?"

"Nope!" Mazz replied with sarcastic cheer, "Complete waste of my day! Only saving grace was I went out for burgers at lunch."

Mark fidgeted for a moment. The noise behind them was getting louder for some reason...

“Dude are you okay?” Mazz asked him, almost like he'd been waiting to.

“Why?”

“Well for starters: you fucking hate being in the alcove.”

Mark shrugged. “I dunno. I don't think people liked last night's broadcast... Also it's loud as fuck right now.” He said plainly. Mazz didn’t press further, taking this as a good enough reason.

“I got some earplugs, you want em?”

“God, yes… Please.”

Mazz reached into his pocket, pulling out a little cardboard box that contained some 5-decibel blockers. Mark stuffed them in, letting the newfound quiet calm him. It wasn’t completely void of sound, but it was a Hell of a lot easier to filter. Not to mention it helped fight the urge to tear his ears off.

"Hey if it makes you feel better, The guys at the field actually were thinking pretty hard about what you said." The blond said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think you opened their minds up a little... I also saw some graffiti by the field this morning: People aren't Insults." 

Mark felt himself smiling, which he didn't often. Maybe it wasn't such a waste after all... Maybe everyone was just being quiet about it cause they were listening to correct someone. Still, that wasn't the only thing worrying him. Though, he wasn't sure he was ready to talk about that quite yet.

“Oh!" Mazz suddenly seemed to remember something, "Murdock was looking for you earlier.”

“Me? Why?”

“I dunno… I thought you might.”

Mark shrugged. “I haven’t done anything…”

“No one ever does.”

He thought over it a moment, trying to come up with possible answers. “Maybe they finally caught Harry.” He concluded.

“I doubt it.” Mazz said, “He had a bunch of other kids with him, If they knew it was you specifically there wouldn’t be a line-up… They Might just be checking files or something… They usually gather kids that have something in common.”

“Something in common?” Mark questioned

“Yeah like; SAT averages, Behavioral Offenses-”

“Autism Diagnoses.” Mark mumbled. Mazz shot him a look.

“Shit... No, no they wouldn't do that would they? Like, It's one thing if it's grades... But That? That's just fucked up.”

"Half the shit kids have been expelled for here has been fucked up, They got you for dress code! And what else would they look for after last night? Deaver ratted out a pregnant chick, he'll rat out anyone with an accommodation plan."

Mazz thought about it, his face scrunching up with cringe. “I’ll give you time to run if Murdock does find ya.”

“If? You mean When, right? They have my schedule.”

“Yeah but they _don’t_ have Mazz Mazzilli keeping guard. Besides... Maybe you'll be fine? I mean... You're dad **is** the school commissioner. Maybe they'll figure that out and decide it's not worth it.”

Mark swallowed his gum, growing more jittery by the second. Mazz, thankfully, noticed this.

“Hey, You wanna just go to my Car? Murdock definitely won’t check there.”

Mark just nodded, grabbing Mazz’s sleeve and following the taller boy through the crowd. His eyes were at the ground, just focusing on counting their footsteps. One-Two, Three-four….. Ten-Eleven… Eighteen-nineteen... Twent-

Something made Mazz stop, and back up just a little. Mark peeked out from behind. Murdock was in the center of the alcove, a small train of four behind him and a very displeased expression across his face.

“How is it, that out of the hundreds of you out here, not ONE PERSON knows anything about a Mark Hunter?” He shouted.

“Simple: He doesn’t have friends, sir.” Someone answered sarcastically. That hurt more than he was willing to admit it did, but there wasn't time to think about it much.

Mazz moved his hand behind him, Mark grabbed it and started to fidget with his fingers. He could tell he was scanning the crowd, maybe to try and find someone else. Or maybe trying to find an easy route to slip through unnoticed. Mark did his best to follow his Gaze, spotting Nora in a relatively filled spot. Mazz must’ve seen her too, because he started ducking and moving both of them in that direction.

“Nora.” He half whispered once they were close enough. Nora turned her head.

“What did you two do and why didn't you invite me?”

“We didn't do nothing! it’s a Harry Hunt.” Mazz explained, He slowly pushed Mark towards her. “Keep an eye on him and keep him away from Murdock… I got to go do some Vigilante work.”

Mazz then looked down at Mark. “Save me a spot at Dinner tonight, K?”

Mark nodded, Watching his friend creep his way around until he was out of sight... a few moments later, he reappeared in another spot of the crowd... Mazz snuck up behind Murdock, then Jumped on his shoulders and covered his face with his vest.

“SCATTER!!!” He instructed to the other kids. They bolted in different directions. Some disappeared into the crowd, others opted to run to other parts of the school. Wherever they went, they were gone by the time Murdock threw Mazz off his back. The False-Blonde dove into the crowd with a scream of “Viva-la-Harry!!”

Murdock paced around, then threw his pen to the ground and shouted “Dammit!” Nora laughed at his misfortune, leading Mark further away from the scene.

“C'mon, let’s go, Murdock's not gonna be blinded by his rage for long." She said, tugging him along. He pulled his arm out of her grip. He did want to be touched right now, a wave a sensitivity suddenly hitting his skin. Plus, he'd rather wait for Mazz to get back before moving anywhere.

Though, the bell rang before that could happen. Mark sighed with a bit of disappointment... He had one more thing he wanted to talk to Mazz about, but maybe it could wait for a while longer. He'd pop up again after school or between classes. So, He and Nora ended up walking to class together.

"So, last night..." She questioned.

"Yeah?"

She shrugged. "I dunno... It was just kind of unexpected."

"Yeah..." Mark said, like a stuck record. Sometimes he couldn't talk at all, and sometimes his vocabulary was traded out for a single word. He rubbed his arm, hoping Nora didn't mind it

She gave a simple nod. "So... You're... Y'know?"

Mark sighed. "Yeah." He wish she'd just say it. 

They remained quiet for a few moments. Then, Nora gave him a confused look. "...Why are your wearing earplugs?"

"Yeah." He mumbled, then quickly did his best to talk again. "They um... Help with the noise." He stuttered but at least he was talking.

"Oh."

Nora decided to not ask anymore questions after that. 

 

* * *

 

Mark ended up keeping the earplugs in for class, mostly because they helped him filter out the sounds of scratching pencils and breathing that normally filled the room. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. He remembered having a set of noise-cancelling headphones for the same purpose when he was younger, but sometime later people around seemed to come to some agreement that he'd "outgrown" them. He didn't have much say in that matter... He can vaguely remember his Parents going back and forth about it with the Psychologist, but they decided it wasn't their place to argue with a professional.

Yeah, they were a little too trusting of that guy in Mark's opinion. But, the past was the past... He scribbled down words, trying to get this poem at least close to done... If he finished it early, maybe he could go over it a second time and make it more legible and focused. A few sounds nearly pulled him out of his zone: Someone sneezing, a door opening, Ms. Emerson having a conversation with someone, Mr. Murdock trying to get his attention-

Wait.

He glanced up, just managing to avert Murdock's cold stare.

"Principal Creswood want's to see you, kid." It was almost like he was growling, probably cause he'd been repeating himself. Mark started to pack up his bag, but was stopped.

"Trust me, you won't be needing anything."

He had a feeling he should probably try to run, yet, he followed Murdock anyways. Out the classroom and across campus. He kept himself at a distance at first, but this seemed to just be an annoyance. Murdock grabbed his arm, pretty tightly, and tugged him for most of the way. He tried to pull out of it, but Murdock held his ground. Mark gave up and started looking around, hoping Mazz might come out of no where... But, that didn't happen. Where even was he? He said he'd bee keeping an eye out, didn't he? He wondered this up until the point where He entered the main office building. He could see Mazz in one of the rooms, tapping his foot and giving who Mark assumed was Mr. Deaver a bored stare... He almost looked like he was dissociating. They exchanged eye-contact for a brief moment, Mazz's expression noticeably drooped and broke from his trance. He seemed to ask Deaver about it, but this question didn't look like it was acknowledged.

Mark, however, didn't have time to think much about this. He was brought into another office on the other side of the room. He was forced into a chair in front of Creswood’s desk. He didn’t even dare try to force eye contact, knowing if he tried he’d just end up worse.

“So, Mark was it? Anything you’d like to say to me?” Creswood’s voice filled the small room like a contained explosion. He almost tried to say something; Witty, dishonest, maybe even a simple “No.” But, he’d already gone nonverbal before that was even a thought in his head.

“Not a talker without your microphone, Harry?”

Mark held his breath. If he didn’t admit anything, They couldn’t prove it. They didn't have much reason to think he was Harry, they just were trying to bluff through it and hope he'd out himself.

His head was forced upwards.

“Look your principal in the eye when she addresses you, punk.” Murdock snapped, "And take those earplugs out." Mark pulled the plugs out and his eyes went anywhere but where they were told to. Eventually, they settled on a brown spot on the wall that happened to be behind Creswood. It would be enough. 

Creswood just gave hum an unamused hum. “Well, since you won’t admit it let’s check your file here…”

He could hear the paper scraping against itself…

“Decent grades… A few notes about behavior from past schools… Not much to go off of...”

Page after page, the sound cut into his ears... He hated it. He could feel his nails starting to dig into his sleeve in a desperate attempt to not stim (He really wished he could though). 

“Medical records… Autism Diagnosis, like the other-”

She stopped… Something made her stop. Mark wasn’t sure if he was grateful or mortified.

"Murdock, get Deaver in here."

Mark wasn't sure exactly how long it took, but Murdock left the room one minute and came back the next with Deaver.

“Deaver, what is this?” Creswood demanded. A Deaver shaped person blocked Mark's view of the brown spot.

“Its like you said, I got all the students who-”

“The parents, Deaver!”

“Mother: Marla Hunter… Father: Brain… Hunter….”

Someone smacked him. “How the hell did you not notice this was Brian Hunter’s Son!!” Murdock. It was Murdock. Of course it was Murdock.

“There's five other families with the same surname! And how was I supposed to know Brian’s son specifically was Autistic?"

"Why wouldn't you check the parents! You know Brian's coming over at 12:30 for that meeting!!"

"You said to only look for the diagnosis! Besides, All the other ones denied any involvement; He could very well be Harry!"

Creswood let out an annoyed sigh. “Brian may be a bastard but he’s not an idiot. He’d know if Hard Harry were under his own roof..."

Mark desperately wished he could laugh about that statement… But he was too emotionally exhausted to even consider it. He filtered out the rest of their bickering, up until he heard himself being addressed.

“Mark... We will admit this was a mistake on our part, but we expect you will keep quiet about everything you heard here today. Your father doesn't need to know about this.” Creswood seemed as though the thought of his Dad finding out about this scared her, but just as quickly went back to her regular cold demeanor. He didn't really want to think to hard about it though. He just gave the three adults a pathetic nod, and slumped out of the room. He didn’t have it in him to walk back to class, he just turned a corner and leaned against a wall.

He spent a few moments breathing and trying to prevent himself from doing something impulsive. Then, a familiar looking clicker-pen entered his vision. He went at a slow pace, trying to not make this any worse than it already was. The pen was eventually grabbed and clicked... Once, then twice, then five times.

Mazz offered over one of his hands. "You wanna stay here for a bit?" He spoke quietly.

Mark shook his head, grabbing Mazz's hand and not letting go.

"Okay, Um... you can just write where you want to go on my arm?"

Mark shakily went to write something... Then, he saw someone walking towards him. He wasn't sure who it was, but he didn't really want to find out. He hid his face in Mazz's shoulder.

"Hey it's okay dude- Oh shit, Hey Brian."

Brian? ...It was his dad? He peeked up. He seemed worried, not that he wouldn't be, but also like he was in a hurry to get to that meeting. He didn't even really acknowledge Mazz, and just zeroed in on him.

"Mark, Are you having a meltdown?" Thankfully, his father also kept his voice at a low volume.

Mark lifted his head just enough to nod. His Dad brushed some hair out of his face.

"Do you want to go home?"

He thought over it for a moment before answering with another nod, and an unexpected hiccup... Was he crying? He couldn't tell. His father looked over at Mazz.

"Mazz do you think you could... I'll take care of his attendance, But I have a meeting with Principal Creswood in a few minutes and It's going to go pretty long."

"Yeah, course Brian... But um..."

"What is it?"

Mark looked down... He knew what Mazz wanted to say, but the fact of the matter was neither of them could technically prove it. So, Mazz just said something that he probably could prove:

"Um... Creswood called Mark in just a few minutes ago. And he looked worse when he came out of her office. But she didn't really have anyone look at him... You might wanna like... check about that."

His dad seemed surprised. "Mark is this true?"

Mark nodded, rubbing his eye a bit. His dad's demeanor suddenly became more cold.

"She knows about your accommodation plan..."

Mazz shrugged. "I mean, If he were being accommodated he wouldn't even be out here with me right now... Would he?" Mark nodded along, hoping his Dad would listen to them about this. Sure, maybe they couldn't see eye-to-eye about certain things; but Mark's father was probably the only person who could actually do anything about Creswood.

"Hm." It became clear by this point that He was very angry, "You're right about that. He _should_ be with Mr. Deaver if anyone... Well, I'll definitely be having a chat with her about it." His dad looked down at Mark one last time, letting himself soften a bit. "Mark, I want you to get some rest. You can pick out dinner later too, if you want?"

His dad must've been in a really good mood to offer that... Usually Thursday was his own dinner night. Mark lifted his head a little. "...Okay." He croaked. It hurt, he wasn't going to say another word for at least an hour. Old Brian Hunter turned around, walking into the building without so much as another word. Mazz quietly took Mark in the opposite direction, the two of them both silently hoping that He'd listen to them about this...

Mazz gave him a quick glance, but avoided his eyes. 

"Dude, this is so fucked up." 

Mark just nodded.


	3. Thursday Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark spends some time conemplating his next course of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selective Muteness

  
Usually when Mark had a meltdown like this, He'd curl under his weighted blanket and give himself something to stim with... But there were certain occasions when he needed something heavier weighing him down. In the past, he'd just up the anti with pillows. But since Mazz was here, he just asked if he'd mind laying on top of him as extra pressure.

So, that's how they'd been for the last hour: Mark under his blanket and his blanket under Mazz... Despite what one might think, it was quite comfortable.

Mazz was quiely going through a couple of letters from the past few nights. He'd recently taken up a habit of checking in on kids who'd written in about particularly uncomfortable things (Mark even heard he and Confused talked on the phone together a lot). Still, this recent batch of letters had been fairly tame. Mark supposed that was a good thing, but then again just because people didn't talk about it doesn't mean it wasn't happening.

 _I told you there weren't too many bad ones._ Mark wrote on a clipboard with a small stack of lined paper. Usually, he and Mazz had a series of gestures or tapping for comunication, but that was normally only for situations where Mark couldn't write something down... Now that he could, he was using it well.

Mazz shrugged. "I dunno... That one about the friend who moved seems pretty interesting... I think i might try to get in contact with whoever the song was meant for."

Oh, right... That one. _You know that's about me, right?_

Mazz seemed actually surprised. "No. I didn't." He said, "You sure?"

_Yeah... I know Clyde's handwriting, that's definately his._

"Clyde huh?" Mazz vaguely knew about Mark's old friends... Mark didn't really talk about them often, but he always named them when they did. "Well, why don't you write back to them? They seem kind of concerned."

Mark shrugged. _I don't know... I guess I just kind of thought they'd move on like everyone else did. Like, we were friends but... It wasn't the same way you and I are friends. I actually feel like I can talk to you. I can't think of one meaningful conversation I had with any of them._

Mazz frowned. "Well, hey... Maybe you shouldn't give up on them too quick."

Mark shrugged. Mazz turned so he was more on his side. "Look, just try to write them back... Give them a little update? They've probably been sending shit to the wrong address. And if things fall through after, you could at least say you tried to make things better."

Mark gave him a nod. Then something else came into his mind.

_I didn't check my box today... I need more letters for tonight._

"Oh, shit." Mazz mumbled. "Do you want me to go out and grab 'em for you?"

Mark took a breath. _Get up for a second?_

Mazz did, he was now at the foot of the bed. Mark took a second to let the shift in weight sink in....

_Yeah, that'd be great._

Mazz smirked. "Alright. I'll be back in like... Twenty tops?" He stood up to leave. Mark started clicking his pen, then when he had Mazz's attention he gestured to his hair.

Mazz ran his hands through it a few times. "Nope, no lizard... I can see him sleeping in his tank from here too."

Mark gave him a tumbs up. His friend left his room through the back sliding door, shutting it behind him. Mark slouched down into his bed, curling under the blanket and letting it's weight keep him calm...

...

...

...

The sound of a door opening brought him just slightly out of his nap. It must've been 20 minutes... Two sets of footsteps entered the room... One had a sort of lopsided pattern and the other was balanced but without a specific rhythm. The first set was Mazz, he couldn't quite figure out the second.

"I think he's asleep... Um, I don't know how he feels about you being here; but I don't think he'll mind it too much... Just like, try not to bother him? Keep your voice low and don't touch him without asking." Mazz explained to the other person.

"Okay... Where should I put his bag?" Nora? Nora. Defintately Nora... He'd left his backpack in Ms. Emerson's room, Mazz went to the post office. She was the only other person who knew about his secret idenity... It had to be Nora.

"He usually keeps it on the couch right there. You should put it there for him."

Mark sat up, watching them move for a moment... Then, Mazz noticed him.

"Hey Buddy. Where you at right now?" He asked.

Mark thought for a moment, then held up 5 fingers.

Mazz nodded, holding up the envelopes. "I'm gonna set these down next to your ashtray." He announced.

Nora walked over to him. "I just came by to drop off your bag... You left all your stuff in Ms. Em's"

He managed to whisper an answer. "...Yeah, I know... Thank you." Admittedly, his bag being here did alliviate some stress. He still missed some of his classes, but at the very least he could finish his writing.

"I didn't look at your Poem, if you were wondering... Like, I got a glimpse at the title but I didn't read it."

"Thank you." He paused for a moment. "Why didn't you say it earlier?"

"Huh?"

He reiterated himself. "Earlier, you wanted to confirm that I was autistic and you kept dancing around the word. Why didn't you just say it?"

Nora thought for a moment. "...I thought I wasn't supposed to."

Mark sighed. "Okay... Well, It's not meant to be an insult but that doesn't mean you don't have to say it at all. Just use the way it's meant to be."

Nora nodded. "You should probably say that tonight, too... I mean, I might not be the only person who thought that."

Mark thought about it for a moment... He was a bit too blunt last night, maybe he should be more clear about it. "Before I agree to that... I wanna hear you ask me properly."

Nora took a moment, changing her composure to something similar to this morning. "So, you're autistic?"

Mark smirked. "Yup... But if you don't mind, I'm not in much of a mood to teach about it right now."

Mazz walked over to join them. "Someone wanted to see what was going on." He said, pointing up to his head. Reggie was happily nestled into his hair, almost disappearing in it. Mark reached up and pet him. The lizard pressed into his hand for a moment.

Nora gave an odd look. "You have a Lizard?" She'd been in his room once or twice before, but it was now occuring to Mark that they'd never formally met.

"His name is Reggie. He like's Mazz's hair, I don't know why."

"He like's it cause it's awesome." Mazz retorted. Reggie gave his own input in a manner only a Lizard could: further nesting into the curls.

"Is he that friendly with everyone?" Nora asked. Mark thought for a moment.

"Sometimes... He saw a picture of Creswood once and really freaked out about it though."

Nora laughed. "Seriously? Wow, He'd probably lose it if she were in your house."

"I would too."

Mazz scoffed. "After what she pulled today, I will personally blow your kitchen up a second time should she step foot in this lovely house." Nora gave him an expression that was somewhere between confusion and amusement.

"Remind me to ask about the kitchen thing later," She turned to face Mark, "So, what exactly happened in there?"

Mark froze for a moment. He tried to think of the best way to explain it without bringing everything back up.

"Murdock dragged me around for a few minutes... then Creswood tried to bluff the Harry stuff out of me... Then they saw my dad's name on my file and yelled at Deaver for a bit..."

Nora frowned. "...Does she know?"

"No more than anyone else... I think I'm gonna be out of their radar for a bit, they don't think my dad is stupid enough to not realize Hard Harry is under his floorboards."

"Well, hey, that's good right?"

"Not if you aren't Mark Hunter."

He was privilanged, in that sense... But really, for Mark, all that meant was guilt towards the other autistic kids who couldn't say their father was Prinicpal Creswood's boss.

Mazz spoke up. "Your dad said he'd have a talk with Creswood, They'll probably stop looking for a little bit... Maybe more if Harry makes a fuss."

Mark sighed in frustration... As much as he watned to yell about that into the night:

"I can't... Then they'll have me backed in a corner. If I say I was called in they'll know it was a kid from today... If I say They were calling up kids with accomodation plans it's Harry's word against theirs, not that they'd believe me anyways. Not to mention, I'd be indirectly telling a bunch of people that those other kids are also on the spectrum, I'm not going to take away that choice from them. It's not right to... I just hope my dad is as angry as he looked when you told him."

Nora sighed, probably out of frustration. "You can't just do nothing though."

"I won't... I just wanna wait a bit before I do something is all... Who knows? Maybe someone will write in about it and give me something to stand on. But, for now it's just gonna have to wait- Fuck..." His throat started to croak up on him. Mazz took immediate notice of the change.

"Hey, don't force it... Where's your clipboard?" He looked around the bed, eventually spotting it under a stray pillow. It took him a moment to recollect himself, but when he had-

_I want to give my own disability the justice it deserves when I talk about it. The fact they targeted us specifically is fucked up, so next time I wanna be more prepared to make my case._

"Hey, maybe after today it won't again." Nora tried. Mark took a few breaths.

_I wish... Maybe not here... But, somewhere it'll probably happen. The best I can do is set an example for another kid trying to speak up about it._

He set his pen back down, letting his head loll back for a moment. His neck hurt... A lot. Partially because his throat was physically straining itself, partially because he'd been hunched over for so long... Speaking of time... He glanced over at his clock. 3:30 it read, His mom would be home soon. He probably should figure out what he wanted for Dinner.

"Whatcha thinkin about there, Mark?" Mazz asked, slouching back a little.

_Dinner I guess?_

"Oh shit yeah... Brian said you could pick dinner tonight, didn't he? Kind of a weird thing to offer in that moment."

_Not when you have a very texture-based lifestyle._

"Ah... Right right..." Mazz said.

"Texture Based?" Nora questioned. Mark gazed at Mazz. His friend didn't get it for a second. Then his eyes lit up with realization.

"Oh, you want me to tell her?" He questioned. Mark gave him a nod. Sure, he could write it out... But Mazz knew about it already, so it would be less work to just have him repeat it.

"Mark told me that a lot of Autistic people have this sensory thing that makes them more sensitive to certain sensations... Mark can't stand certain textures, and sometimes if his food has something he hates feeling then he physically can't eat it."

Nora gave him a look. "Like... You'll start gagging or something?"

Mark nodded.

"What kind of foods?" Nora asked. Mark, this time, did actually write down some stuff.

_Things that are cold and mushy. Instant powdered food when you can still kind of feel the powder in the mixture. Whatever the hell kind of texture you call squash. Very intense spices also can set it off sometimes depending on the spice._

He took the time to put a poorly drawn mad face next to squash (he really hated squash). Nora must've been amused by this, because she chuckled.

"Y'know... That's actually a fair point. Squash is weird."

Mazz shrugged. "I like it but not as a main course... You have to have it complimenting something else and you have to add seasoning and something else to make it less... squash-y. But if you don't then it sucks."

Mark gave him a look. _How the hell does your family make Squash?_ He wrote.

"Properly. Like, no offense Marla's a great cook but Grandmazzilli's squash recipe is a lot better."

_I'd probably still hate the texture, But admittedly if it were seasoned I'd consider at least tasting it a bit._

"I'll snag some for you next time we have a family reunion."

They ended up conversing like this for a little bit. Mark was fine with it... He liked telling others about autism, provided they were polite about it. And Nora was, almost as polite as Mazz was.

Sometime later they all heard a door open upstairs, followed by a series of light footsteps.

"Mom's home." Mark mumbled softly.

"Does she know you left school early?" Nora asked.

He gave the universal hum of "I don't know" as an answer.

"Mark?" His mom called out.

"We're downstairs Marla!" Mazz called back. The footsteps grew closer, then she walked in without knocking. His mother looked around for a moment, then walked over when she saw everyone on the bed.

"Hi." Mazz greeted. Mark's mother smiled.

"Hello Mazz." She then turned to face Nora, "I Don't think I've met you before."

Nora stuck out her hand. "I'm Nora... Mark and I have class together. I just came to drop off his backpack."

"Pleasured to meet you, Nora." His mom sat on the edge of the bed. "You feel better, Mark? Your father said you weren't in a good state this afternoon."

"A little." Mark said quietly, "I'm still kind of shakey."

His mom gave him a nod. "Okay... Have you thought about what you want for Dinner?"

Ah, his dad must've called her. Mark thought over it again. "...Could we just get burgers or something? I don't want anything fancy."

His mom hummed. "Burgers huh? ...Yeah, sure. I'll call your father and see if he can pick them up on his way home. What do you kids want?"

 

* * *

 

 

The smell of burgers was wafting through the house, and Mark enjoyed every second of it. Not only was tonight a night with Mazz, but Nora had stayed over as well (She was hesitant, but everyone assured her that it wasn't any trouble). His dad had gotten the food from some local joint that Mark hadn't really heard of. Mazz had though, and apparently this was the same place he'd eaten yesterday. Mark didn't really care too much about the specifics... A burger was a burger. That said, this happened to be a particularly tastey one. He took a moment to bite one of his fries, having dipped it into a milkshake to get a nice contrast from the flavors... Then, something suddenly came into his mind.

"Um... Mazz?" He said quietly. Mazz just hummed, turning to face him. Mark wiped his hand on his shirt and reached up... Ah, yup. His suspicions were correct.

He pulled a very displeased Reggie out from Mazz's head.

"Oh dang I forgot he was up there." Mazz exclaimed, "He didn't move very much."

Mark took another look at Reggie. He didn't seem sluggish, but definately not very happy either.

"I think he was sleeping." He pulled the lizard a bit closer to him... Sure enough, Reggie settled down with his head nudged into Mark's elbow.

Mark looked up, seeing both his Parents and Nora looking with some strange expression he couldn't quite decipher. He just quietly excused himself to place Reggie back in his tank. As much as Reggie liked Mazz, Mark had a feeling he'd be just a bit happier if he were sleeping under his basking lamp.

Judging by the way he crawled onto his log, Mark would say that was a good assumption. He turned to leave his room, only to bump right into his dad. They akwardly pushed away from eachother.

"Sorry, son." He said, "I just wanted to talk to you about this afternoon."

Mark froze up for a second. "Oh, yeah?" He still felt uncomfortable thinking about it.

His father straightened himself up. "Now, I had a talk with your principal... And she did say she called you in because you were hanging around Mazz-"

/That's/ what she was covering it up as? Not a surprising thing, but definately something that would be convincing. Mazz was expelled, Mark wasn't. If Mark gets injured on campus and Mazz happens to be around, it makes the school look worse. (Of course, they could always reverse their decision if they really wanted too... Not that it was going to happen but it was an option).

"-And of course I told her that I trust Mazz enough and that I won't hold the school accountable for anything if it should happen. But, she says that she asked you to wait outside of Deaver's office after she excused you."

A lie, of course. His father's tone read skeptisim too, but Mark wasn't sure if it was directed towards Creswood or himself.

"Now, I just want to hear your side again... That's all."

Mark took a breath. "...She excused me, but just told me to leave. Deaver was already in the room and didn't do... Didn't do anything."

He wanted to say "Shit" but his voice tripped over it.

"Deaver was in the room?"

"Yeah, him and Mr. Murdock..."

His dad hummed. "That's very different from the story she told me... You're sure about this?"

Mark looked down. "Can't you just believe me?"

"I do believe you, I just can't see why your principal would tell such a different story."

Mark could think of a thousand reasons. "You don't sound like you believe me."

His father sighed. "Mark... Look, I know you and Mazz wouldn't lie about something this serious. But, that's the thing: It is a very serious accusation; and I want to make sure this is the full story before I tell the school security officer. I'm not allowed to investigate it myself because I'm your father and considered a biased party."

Mark rubbed his arm. _He_ was biased? More biased then a guy Creswood probably was already bribing? Once again, his dad had let him down. He felt an unwanted hand on his shoulder, and shoved it away.

There was a soft sound of defeat. "Mark- listen. I trust you about this, I'm doing everything I can... But, if the other guy doesn't find anything encriminating then..."

Mark just gave him a nod.

"You okay?"

He didn't want to answer. His father pulled him into a hug. Mark, truthfully, didn't want it; but he allowed it because he figured he owed his dad something for dinner. Or, at least to humor him.

"It won't be like the last times. This time it's protected by law."

Laws didn't really matter when they were being ignored anyways. "Sure, Dad."

When he got back to the table he found himself staring at his food more than actually eating it... He did manage to finish off the burger, and the taste admittedly made him feel a little better. Good food just had that kind of effect on people. That said, the conversation still hung over him. Why wouldn't it? It was kind of fucked up.

The more he thought about it, the more likely he figured Creswood would get off of it. It was only the first year these accomodations had been implemented vs her how many years of working... She could probably pass it off as a simple instinctive reflex, an irresistible impulse. That's probably what was going to happen, considering everything else. At the very least, the talk with his father would hopefully create a lull in explusions for a little while. Was that a good thing? He supposed so... Though, the cost of it wasn't a good one.

"Whatcha thinking about, Mark?" His mother asked suddenly. Mark tried to think of an excuse.

"Just something I heard on the radio yesterday..." Why did he say that? Why did that have to be his excuse? Mark Hunter what on earth where you thinking?

"Was it that... Hard Harry guy?" His father questioned. It was a bit amusing to hear him say the name, more so to hesitate with it.

"Yeah he had a great show last night." Mazz replied, "You know he's autistic? He told everyone on the air last night."

Mark's parents exchanged glances. "No," His father admitted, "He is huh?"

"Yeah," Nora piped up, "He said he thought too many people use it as an insult and he was fed up with hearing it so he just ranted about it for half the night."

Mark's father leaned back a bit, eying his son. Sure, he'd never figure it out, he was too naive; but he didn't like the eye-contact. "Well... I'm glad he's at least trying to spread a good message for once."

"Yeah, Mark was pretty happy about it... Came to me all giddy this mornin'"

Mark looked down. He knew Mazz was just trying to break the tension (and also cover for him)... But, at the same time the idea of someone describing him as "giddy" made him a bit embarassed. Why "Giddy"? What kind of word is that?

"Is that so, Mark?" His mother asked.

Mark just gave a shrug. "...At least he can say it bothers him to without others demanding a reason."

His Parents exchanged glances again, but this time it seemed more understanding of it (or, at least as understanding as two non-autistic parents could be about an situation that entirely was based in autism). They didn't ask many questions after that, opting instead to finish eating.

 

* * *

 

 

Mazz ended up leaving after dinner, saying that he had something important he needed to do involving his family. Nora had left, too... As she only indended to drop by to give Mark his bag and leave. His parents had offered to drive her, but she declined it...

And so, Mark was alone in his bedroom... scratching on a bit of paper while he waited for his clock to hit 10. He was in an odd position on his couch, his legs keeping his clipboard steady as he wrote on it. He'd managed to finish his poem (Ditching the idea of making his writing neat), and now was trying to draft a letter for Clyde...

He still felt in conflict about actually trying to contact them, but Mazz did have a point... If he tried and things fell though, he could at least say he didn't completely ignore them and gave an effort. He looked up at the Lizard tank, staring at Reggie through the glass.

"What do you think, Reg? Does 'I am contacting you in response to a letter read on-air by radio jock Happy Harry Hard-On' sound too formal?" He asked. Reggie responded in a manner that only a lizard could, and that manner was not having any understanding of the human language. Mark mulled over it for a moment.

"Yeah, I dunno... I think it's too formal, but maybe it'll at least give them the benefit of believing it's me." He glanced up at his clock again. 9:55 it read. He got up from the couch, letting his spine pop. He just wanted tonight to be fairly mellow... He was just gonna read some letters, play a song or two, maybe pet his lizard somewhere in between, and call it a night. Sure, maybe it was a little out of character for Harry... But maybe people wouldn't notice too much if he just made a few cracks about dicks or something.

He light a cigarette, inhaled a puff of smoke, and let the sound of "Everybody Knows" play a little longer than he would any other night. Then, when the song faded out, he slowly brought his microphone to his face.

"Good evening... I dunno about you guys, but Ol' Harry here is feeling just a little bit tired tonight. Of course, it could have something to do with the fact that I jerked off 5 times before starting, but hey... Who reallly cares about the specifics? Now, that said... Why don't we all just kick back tonight and catch up on what all you lovely people have been sending me."

He pulled a letter from the top of the pile... It was still next to his ashtray... and nearly leveled with the top portion of it.

"I think i should say that I've gotten quite the stash from you guys tonight... Lets see who our first writer is tonight."

He opened the letter... It was written on a simple index card, and contained only a single sentance without any formality.

" _'Are you actually autistic?'_ A fair question to ask. For the record, Yes I am... However, due to personal reasons my folks had it off record for most of my life... I'm not even sure they went over and fixed it when the ADA went into effect in July."

This was technically a lie, but one that would at least keep Creswood from looking into any more files... If they thought Harry was off-record then they couldn't do much about it.

"Also, while It's on my mind... I overheard there was a bit of confusion concerning last night's show, so just to clarify: It's totally fine to use the word Autistic, just as long as it's used in it's intended context. Capiche? Use it as a statement of fact, not a descriptor of stupidity."

He read through another couple of letters. Some of them weren't really related to last night: Questions about dealing with stress ("I'm no expert but, I'd say try to find something constructive you can channel it into."); Someone who had a question for "Confused" (Mark had opened it during a song break, so he ended up not reading it and instead stashing it somewhere... Maybe he'd let Mazz take it to relay the message); And another letter from someone who signed "Fucked Face" which was more just a rant about her father that she felt she needed to get out (She'd asked Harry to read it on the chance that it might inspire someone else to do the same).

But then there were the ones that were about the previous night:

" _Dear Hard Harry, I had a teacher fail me for an entire year because he didn't think people with my 'condition' were worth giving extra help..._ "

" _Dear Hard Harry, I have a younger brother who is on the spectrum. He's afraid to go to school because the other kids like to torment him for having comfort items. The board hasn't done anything about it..._ "

" _Dear Hard Harry, My mother hits me whenever I need to stim in public because she thinks it's unnatural. It's gotten to the point where I can't even do it in private because it makes me flich..._ "

He felt a little squeamish reading some of them, but pushed through... People needed to know what the other side of it looked like. He did his best to give answers when he could. ("If you can I'd look to sue... You're brother needs a good support system, try to give him one... I think your mom is an asshole and should mind her own business, but if she doesn't try carrying something around in your pockets to stim with.")

He glanced at his clock for a moment... 12:01 it read. A part of him almost wanted to sign off, but he did have another letter left.

"Well folks, looks like we got one more note here. Let's take a look at it... _Dear Hard Harry-_ "

Then he froze. Almost uncertain if he should finish... But, he'd already started at that point. People would just ask about it more if he didn't

"... _Dear Hard Harry_ ," He repeated, " _I think it's too rash to say that everyone who uses the term 'Autistic' as an insult is an ableist... I think you should lighten up and learn to take a joke._ "

That almost made him clam up. He almost turned off his equiptment, almost chucked his mic across the room in frustration. That one thing... They just had to say _that one thing._

He sighed. "Goddamnit... I want to assume you learned tonight from some of the other letters why it specifically bothers me... But also, I think the reasons i gave yesterday are good enough as any! It isn't a joke to us, it's our life... And you just... you just keep..."

He was running out of words. Mark eyed his poem, laying across the desk... He'd worked hard on it, he thought it was the best one he'd ever written in his life. He'd gone through all the trouble of writing it these last two days so he'd have something to turn in tomorrow...

So Be It.

He grabbed the paper, and recited his stanzas:

 _"There's a word that starts with "A"_  
_A word I learned when I was younger._  
_I didn't think much of it back then_  
_But, lately, it's all the world wants me to do._

 _'There's a word that starts with "A"_  
_It's technically an adjective_  
_But It's definition is often disputed._  
_For me, it's an Idenity; For them, it's a joke._

 _'There's a word that starts with "A"_  
_and I'm tired of denying it_  
_Tired of letting it go by like trivia_  
_Tired of hiding it behind a mask._

 _'There's a word that starts with "A"_  
_And it's always about me._  
_They make me another problem to hate_  
_Or another person to throw false pity towards._

 _'There's a word that starts with "A"_  
_And they think it's all theirs._  
_They use it for gain or they use it in vain._  
_They use it even though they don't want it at all._

 _'There's a word that starts with "A"_  
_And it's not an "Atrocity"_  
_It's not "Awful" or "Abhorrent" or"Abysmal"_  
_And despite what you hear it isn't "Appalling"_  
_It's not "Abhorrent" or "Amateurish" or "Anything Bad"_  
_And it's most certainly not an "Ailment"_

 _'...There's so many words that begin with "A"_  
_And yet you still choose to use "Autistic?"_

He leaned back into his chair as he finished. "I hope you all enjoyed that piece, cause it's the only time Hard Harry will be reading out his own poetry on air for anyone to hear... Anyways. It's late... Tomorrow is Friday. I'm callin' it a night." He shut off his equiptment, putting his mic back onto it's stand...

Mark had a feeling he wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.


	4. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are Greatly Appreciated.

Fridays were always an odd-day out in his school scheduel. They always delayed school an extra hour on fridays, which in turn meant shorter class periods... Which also meant that Lunch happened after 4th period instead of before. Mark's 4th period? Creative Writing, of course... The class he normally looked the most foreward to attending, but today he felt uneasy about. It wasn't like he could just hand in the same poem he read last night, if he didn't get outed as Harry he'd just be accused of plagerism.

Mark kept his head down for most of that period, not really wanting to accidentally make eye contact with anyone. He usually kept his stim toys at home, but just for today he brought an old pencil topper to roll between his fingers. He had a slight urge to chew it, but that was quickly fixed by his presence of gum.

Even if it didn’t look like it, he did listen intently to all the poems being shared… They ranged from thought inducing to genuinly sweet gestures to just outright bizarre. That was something he liked about Emerson’s class; it was routine (which he enjoyed), but it could still be surprising in many ways.

The bell rang just after they’d gotten halfway through the entire class.

“Anyone else who wanted to present will get the chance on monday!” Emerson assured as everyone started to leave for lunch. Mark attempted to follow once he’d finished packing, but was pulled aside before he could.

“So Mark, I wanted to ask you about your poem…” She said. She held up a paper that had a hastily written haiku on its lines.

_writing poetry_   
_is an extremely hard task_   
_that i cannot do_

It was especially blunt, but Mark was known for that at times. That said, he admittedly hated it. The other one had actual thought put into it, and this just reminded him of how he wasted it.

“…I had trouble getting into this assignment… I dont know why…” He mumbled. Emerson just gave him a look.

“Well, it’s not terrible,” She said, “But, if you’d like to have the one you read last night be graded instead, then I’d be happy to take it.”

Mark froze on the spot… Did she actually know? Or was she being bribed by Creswood too? Either way, his brain failed him.

“I didnt… read… a poem… last night…” He lied, very terribly.

“No… That was Harry wasn’t it? I must be mistaken.”

“Yeah… Besides, I doubt Harry would be stupid enough to bring the written version of that poem to school.”

Emerson shot him a look. “Doubtfullness doesn’t mean truthfullness, does it Mark?”

Mark stayed frozen… He pulled his bag off, reaching in and pulling out a slightly crumpled looseleaf sheet. He wasn't sure why he bothered packing it today... Maybe he had some weird attachment to it, maybe he wanted to show someone. Either way, he ended up placing it into Ms. Emerson's hands. “You’re not going to tell Creswood, are you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “About what a wonderful writer you are? She wouldn’t listen to that.”

“…not what I meant.” He mumbled.

Emerson placed the poem into a folder along with the others that had been turned in. “If I wanted to tell Creswood I had an idea of Who Harry was, I would have already done it. But, unlike her, I dont believe in compromising the privacy of my students. Besides, Unless someone outright tells me they’re Harry, I don’t really have anything incriminating on them.”

Mark squished the pencil topper a few times, letting his uneasy feelings leave his body. “Thanks.”

He left the classroom without much more to say. He avoided the alcolve, walking around the school and arriving at the same staircase he usually ate lunch in. He took a breath, quietly assuring himself it was safe again, and sat down in a shady spot. Usually, he'd have read his book too, but today he felt more like just existing in the moment.

About halfway through his sandwhich, He noticed Mazz and Nora approaching in what little pariferall vision he had. Before they could ask, Mark already had an answer.

"You can join me today, if you want." They smiled. Mazz squeezed himself between Mark and the railing (Still giving a little space between them), and Nora slouched back on the opposite side of Mark.

"So, Whatcha thinking about Buddy?" Mazz asked him.

"Nothing really..." Mark admitted, taking another bite of food.

"C'mon... You're always thinking of something." Nora pestered. Mark rolled his eyes.

"I dunno... I just feel different. Like this weight in my chest left me."

He sat for a moment, watching a rare desert cloud slowly pass by overhead... Then footsteps... Mark tensed a little, glancing over his shoulder. It was indeed the same kids from the other day... But, at the sight of Mazz they picked up their pace. Mark gave him a look.

"...Did you-?"

Mazz shrugged, cracking his knuckles against his palms. "Nora overheard them talking shit this morning, so we gave them our own lil' talk."

Nora hummed, as though to confirm this. "If they wouldn't listen to you directly, they might as well have to listen to someone repeat your words."

Mark let out a rare sigh of content, letting his body lean against the step above him. There was a different air around the school, no doubt. It was faint, but it was there... And he had a feeling it would be more prominate in the future.

"So, read anything good lately?" Mazz asked him.

Mark fiddled with his pencil topper. "I was re-reading one of my favorite books the other day." He admitted.

"What book?" Nora asked.

From there, the three of them entered a slow but comfortable conversation... And it was unlikely they'd break from it before the bell rung.


End file.
